


The Couple that Road Trips Together

by sandy_s



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Bacon, Christmas, Coffee, Demons, F/M, Gift Fic, Heart-to-Heart, Hellmouth (BtVS), Holidays, Home, Honesty, Interstate 10, Los Angeles, Mistletoe, New Orleans, Post-Series, Road Trips, Sleepy Cuddles, Slippery hellmouth, Talking, Waffle House, Waffles, porsche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy_s/pseuds/sandy_s
Summary: Buffy discovered that Spike was alive in L.A. and has been helping with the cleanup. They, of course, inevitably got back together, and now, they’re on their first road trip together. Third person POV. Set post-NFA.Written for Seasonal Spuffy Fall 2018.A/N: Special thank you to badwolfjedi for brainstorming road trip fic ideas with me (couldn’t decide when and where to set it) and for reading over the story to make sure I didn’t do anything way off base. And this story is dedicated especially to dear swifthorse.Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.





	The Couple that Road Trips Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swifthorse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swifthorse/gifts).



_“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be."  
Douglas Adams_

_“Home is where your heart is, find where you belong,_  
Start to take control, show a little soul.  
Then, you feel who you are.”  
From the song “Home is Where Your Heart Is” by the Sounds 

* * *

At the bottom of the steps that led up to her temporary apartment, Buffy was waiting for Spike now that the sun had set, and she was nervous. 

She pushed her mouth to one side, adjusting her knit beanie with one hand and fidgeting with the handle of her giant suitcase. A wind blew an obnoxious gust of cold air, making a strand of her hair stick on her lip gloss. She huffed, tugging the hair away and pulling her coat around her. 

It had been six months (or was it seven?) since she’d found Spike alive in a tent set up by the army on the outskirts of L.A. and six months since she’d punched him in the nose and then kissed him silly. She’d never hit him again after that unless the hitting involved something fun in the bedroom or an accidental swipe on patrol. 

She loved Spike. 

Buffy could own that now. They’d been taking things slow, mostly because there was a lot of clean-up with the mess Angel had made as head of Wolfram and Hart, but Buffy was officially with Spike, as in he was her boyfriend. No one was confused or in the dark, and they’d been clear with everyone. Well, she’d made it clear with the people she cared about. 

The only problem was that everyone she cared about was scattered all over the place, taking care of the mess she and the others had made in Sunnydale with the spell that made all potential Slayers into actual Slayers. Xander, Giles, Faith, and Robin were all gathering up Slayers and trying their best to sort out the fires in their own parts of the world. As for Dawn, Buffy sure as hell didn’t want her sister anywhere near L.A. right now. Not for a long time – if ever. This was not a part of the world she wanted to show her sister right now. Though she’d been with Buffy most of the time, Dawn had been with Giles since Buffy was back in the U.S., including the holidays. Buffy’s heart ached a little at being separated from her for Christmas.

In any case, for Spike, Buffy’s declaration probably didn’t mean as much as if she had claimed their relationship in Sunnydale. He didn’t seem to mind, however. He was having way too much fun lording it over Angel. . . when they weren’t working together on some issue or another in a very family-like and almost collegial way. 

The difference in Spike and Angel’s relationship kind of blew Buffy’s mind, but she didn’t question it much. She was too busy making up for lost time and making sure Spike knew with a hundred percent certainty that – 

A car horn honked, and Buffy jolted out of her musings to the reality of a. . . black Porsche slowing down to a stop in front of her. 

Her face no doubt full of confusion, she adjusted her jacket again and leaned over to peek in the window that was rolling down. “Spike?”

He grinned at her – his bleached hair bright even in the low luminescence from the streetlights. “Hey, love. You ready?”

Warm air blew out at her, and she suddenly longed to be inside the car with him. She glanced briefly back at her suitcase. Um. “Why are we taking this tiny car?”

His blue eyes sparkled at her. “Remember when I nicked that Winnebago while we were running from the hell bitch?”

She shuddered. “Yeah. I’d like to not remember that.”

Spike casually rested his hand on the back of the passenger seat like an invitation – an invitation she now welcomed. “Well, I said I should’ve taken that Porsche for you, me, and the Bit, but I didn’t. So, now, here’s our chance. We’re going on a road trip. Figured we should do it in style.”

“Where?” 

“Where’d I get the car? Stole it from good ole Wolfram and Hart. Had it debugged by the witch working with Thia, and it’s good to go. All ours for the trip to New Orleans.” Thia was the L.A. Slayer, who had her own little close-knit team the way Buffy did. . . or used to. 

“Oh.”

“Angel told me to take it. Said I earned it and screw the law firm. Who am I to question that?” Spike nodded past her. “What’s with the giant suitcase, love? I’m assuming your scythe is in that giant homemade case strapped to it. Good thing we’re not flying.”

Buffy shrugged a shoulder and glanced away, studying the car’s side mirror. She needed her weapon with the mission ahead of them, and the other stuff. Well. . . “I didn’t know we’d be taking a car with no space.” 

She felt Spike studying her face. “You can’t leave anything behind. Not anymore.”

The corner of her mouth lifted, just a fraction. She’d been living out of a suitcase for over a year. And everywhere she went, all her meager but slowly accumulating belongings came. “Maybe.”

Spike left the car in park and came around to help her. “Pretty soon you’ll have more than you can carry with you.” 

She held her elbows, grateful that he understood. “Yeah. Maybe then I won’t feel so. . .” How could she describe it? “Anxious about leaving things behind?”

Rescuing her suitcase from the bottom of the stairs, he ducked his head for a tender kiss. “I get it. More than you know.” 

“Don’t do it again,” she whispered. She was surprised to find her eyes filling with tears. 

He paused in his assessment of where to put her suitcase in the small car, saw her distress, and dropped everything to pull her into an embrace. 

* * *

Buffy startled awake, lifting her head from its awkward position against the window. “W-what?”

Spike reached over and took her hand. “I can’t stand anymore Christmas carols, pet. We’ve been listening to them the whole way now even when you were asleep.”

It was true. She had insisted on listening to something festive since she didn’t have anything else Christmas-y around. The holiday was the day after tomorrow after all. She’d even managed to scrounge up a gift for Spike and couldn’t wait to give it to him. It was something small and maybe a little cheesy, but she didn’t have much in the way of income – still. (Giles was working on it.) She’d stowed the gift deep in her suitcase where he wouldn’t find it. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Spike squeezed her hand and rubbed his thumb over her pinky. “It’s okay. Know we agreed we’d both stay up, but you need rest. Thinking we should stop soon anyway. Look for a hotel.”

“That sounds fantastic. A hotel with a comfy bed! And clean sheets, please. Maybe a shower for in the morning.” She yawned, and her stomach protested. “And I’m hungry.”

“Body demanding food, eh?” 

“Yes. Very insistently.” Talking about it only made her stomach more growl-y.

Spike glanced over at her in the dim light from the car control panels. “Can hear it loud and clear.”

“Right. I forgot you hear all.” 

He rubbed her tummy with affection. “Too bad we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Buffy leaned over to the floorboard for the plastic bag by her feet, which was far too light to contain food. “And we ate all the snacks.” Spike had been partial to the spicy Cheetos.

“There’s blood.” There was a cooler in the back with plenty of blood in it. 

“Ewww. No. When’s the next exit with food?” Buffy squinted out the window. The world all around them was pitch black and occasionally dotted by a dim light. There were no other cars on the road. They were in the middle of nowhere. “And a bathroom. I have to pee.” 

“Don’t have the highway memorized.” Spike’s sarcasm was still alive and well but less brittle since he fought for his soul and since they were officially together. 

She rolled her eyes at him, and he grinned. “Darn. Thought you did.” She squirmed in discomfort. “But seriously.” 

He rested his hand on her thigh, and she sighed. “I know, pet. I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” 

They drove on in silence for the next several minutes, and Buffy tried hard to hold her body together. Pretty soon, her rumbly tummy was overpowered by the urgency to find a bathroom. When at last, a blue sign appeared, indicating a rest stop was coming, she perked up.

“There!” she said with a little too much eagerness, pointing at the sign that went by too fast for her to read what kind of fast food place or gas station it was. 

“I see it.” Spike smoothly guided the car off the highway.

The gas station/convenience store was named “Home Sweet Home,” which amused Spike so much that he chuckled, but Buffy had no idea why. It was obviously owned by someone local to whatever small town they were near because the gas was generic and the store had a homemade sign lit by Christmas lights. There were lights haphazardly hung in the windows and around the edge of the roof, and a glowing Santa greeted them by the door – his black-gloved hand raised in a wave as he stood next to a display of homemade rocking chairs for sale.

Buffy didn’t even glance at Spike as she jumped out of the car into the warm evening. No winter coat was needed here. The only thing on her mind was her bursting bladder, but she did manage to grab her wallet to buy snacks. Priorities. 

A little bell tinkled as she pushed the door open, and she was taken back to the sound of the bell in the Magic Box. The whole store smelled of cinnamon and Christmas. She didn’t look left or right once her eyes found the restroom sign, and she hurried past garland-decorated shelves of food and refrigerated drinks. Once in the exceptionally clean bathroom, she sighed with relief as she the pressure in her bladder eased. Washing her hands after, she burst back into the store, feeling like a new woman. 

Spike was still filling up the car outside, so Buffy began perusing the bags of chips, making sure to check expiration dates. Who knew how many people stopped out here in the middle of nowhere? She grabbed several bags of chips, a box of granola bars, several Slim Jims for protein, and two giant bottles of water. She foresaw more bathroom breaks in her future, but at least, she’d be well hydrated. Hopefully, Spike wouldn’t kill her. . . though he hadn’t managed to kill her yet when he’d been seriously trying, so she didn’t count on him killing her over bathroom breaks being very successful.

Speaking of imminent death, Spike didn’t have that look on his face very often. She was reminded that despite his soul, he was as deadly as a vampire could be, and when he got that feline look on his face, she knew something was up. 

“Buffy,” he hissed as the door swung closed behind him. 

“What?” she asked, matching his soft, urgent tone and coming around the corner with her arms full. 

“Something’s not right.” He sniffed the air and strode around the end of the checkout counter. “Blood. Lots of it.”

Buffy hurried to join him. Crap. There was indeed a lot of blood and everywhere, and a trail of it led into the back room as if a body had been dragged away. Buffy exchanged a wordless look with Spike and dumped all her treats in a silent heap on the counter. Spike shifted into game face, ridges hilling his forehead and fangs descending. Though they’d been apart for a year, they’d easily fallen back into working together in a way that made Buffy’s pulse race and heart sing. She pushed past him, touching her open palm to his chest before stooping to scoop up a metal baseball bat from the shelf under the register. 

The room ahead was dark and silent, and with Spike right over her shoulder, she fumbled for and flicked on the light. A single yellow lightbulb arced light across the large storage room, which was filled with shadowy stacked boxes and a simple desk with a computer. 

The body of a dark-haired teenage girl lay crumpled on the ground, her hips twisted to one side, her chest torn open. Her unseeing blue eyes stared at the ceiling. Buffy’s mind immediately went to Dawn, and fury rose up, preparing her muscles for a fight. 

As she entered the cramped space and Spike joined her, two large demons scrabbled across the ceiling and dropped to the floor with twin thumps. They were grey-skinned with slimy-looking patches mottling their flesh. Blood dripped from their puckered mouths that opened and closed like fish out of water. There was little to distinguish them from one another other than size, and the smaller of them was making a high-pitched whining sound. 

Without fanfare, the demons launched themselves at Buffy and Spike. 

Buffy took the bigger one, swiping the bat at the demon’s open side when it slashed at her with sharp talons. She missed and dropped into a roll as her opponent circled around and swung at her head. There was the sound of something crashing. Bouncing up while dodging the attempted blow, she whirled to see Spike backed up against the wall as he used the flimsy-looking desk as a shield against his foe, who was spitting some sort of acidic substance in his direction.

“Buffy, love, look out!” he called before ducking behind the wood. 

“Slimy and deadly, huh?” She crouched and jumped high as she heard her opponent barreling toward her. 

The creature snagged the bottom of her jeans and then grasped her ankle, dragging her to the ground. Her arm hit at an odd angle, and she lost her grip on the bat. Her weapon rolled away from her into the darkness. Damn.

She couldn’t see Spike, but she heard scrabbling sounds and grunts as they continued to fight. In her peripheral vision, she thought she saw the other demon sailing through the air. The sound of boxes crumpling confirmed it. 

Her captor climbed atop her, depositing its weight on her legs so that they were pinned. Inanely, she thought about how her clothes were now ruined. 

As the demon drew up a talon to slice open her blouse, she struggled and protested, “I just bought this top, asshole.”

Her foe paused for the half-second she needed, shifting to allow her to move. Summoning all her strength, she drew her free leg up and kicked the demon in the stomach so hard that it took flight the same as its companion had moments ago. Turning on her side, she pushed herself up to witness Spike twisting her demon’s head to one side. The subsequent crack of its neck confirmed its death. 

A small sucking sound rose up behind Buffy, and she rushed over to Spike’s fallen enemy and stomped the heel of one of her ruined boots into the creature’s eye. With a squelching noise and sharp cry of pain followed by a soft exhale, the second demon passed. 

Spike was next to her in a second, checking her over the way she was surveying him for injuries. They were all clear. Thankfully. Buffy sighed in relief, and Spike tilted her head for a kiss, tender and affectionate with a hint of hunger lingering in the background. 

As the brief kiss ended, Buffy said with exaggerated brightness, “Good thing I packed all my belongings to take with us ‘cause I really want to change clothes and now.” 

“You are a bit. . . slimed,” Spike noted with amusement in his eyes. 

She crossed her arms and sulked. “And somehow, you remain completely clean. Not even a hint of gross stuff. That’s so not fair.”

He slipped back into human guise. “I’ll get your suitcase.” He looked her up and down, and even covered in goop, she felt her heart speed up at the way he so obviously undressed her with his eyes. “Wait here.”

“I’m coming with,” she insisted.

He arched a brow at her. “This part of that leaving thing?”

“No,” she said swiftly. Then, she added, “Maybe.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, love. I promise.” His words were reassuring but that wasn’t what she meant.

She corrected him, managing to keep her tone lighthearted, “It’s not that. I’m just not going to let you be out there alone with who knows what other demons lurking about.” 

* * *

“You’re gonna have to let me off the hook sometime, pet.” Spike was curled up around Buffy in the hotel room bed with its inviting pillow and comfy mattress, and she was already halfway to dreamland. 

Buffy’s whole world except for Dawn was in that hotel room, and she was content and more than a little sleepy. They’d driven several more hours after she’d cleaned up in the demon-filled gas station and made love to Spike on one of the rocking chairs, which had had some unique challenges but was crazily enough perfect. She’d then consumed most of her Slim Jim’s and drunk a bottle and a half of water (that she had still paid for). Her bodily functions except for needed rest had been met, and she really needed some sleep. Now, the sun was rising, and she and Spike had stopped at the first hotel in a reasonably sized town for rest. What was he bringing up now at the worst possible time imaginable? “What do you mean?” she mumbled.

He drew his legs up behind hers, spooning her closer. “I mean, I get that you’re angry with me about. . . well, about a lot of things. I’ve made some bloody wrong moves. And you have a right to be upset. But if we’re going to make a go of it, I need to know that at some point, you might be able to forgive me.”

She frowned even though he couldn’t see it. “Forgive you? I have forgiven you. A-and I’m not angry. Queen of stupid moves in our relationship over here, remember?”

He sighed. “We’ve both contributed to our relationship being more than a bit messy. And I know it doesn’t help things move along, but I am sorry, pet. I’m sorry for not coming to find you sooner.” 

“Would you have ever come to find me?” She honestly didn’t know because they hadn’t had time to really talk. Los Angeles had been too busy for a lot of reasons, and the main thing she’d communicated was that she loved him. She brought his forearm up to her chest, clasping his hand in hers. 

“If I knew this was how you felt, I’d have come as soon as I was solid again.”

“You really didn’t know?” Buffy nestled her hips against his and owned her piece. “I get why you weren’t sure. We weren’t exactly clear at the end, and I did kiss Angel.”

“There is that.” Spike’s words were no longer tinged with jealousy. “But it was more that I wanted you to remember me as someone who went out saving the world and not someone who came back in an ugly bauble stuffed in a box and sent through the postal system.”

“That logic is not my logic.” 

“Feelings have nothing to do with logic.”

“Duh.” She paused for several seconds. “I don’t love you because you’re some hero that saved the world. I love you for who you are. I believe in you as a person, remember? I wouldn’t give a crap if you came back in some other ridiculous way that I can’t think of right now because. . . well, because tired here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“We should have talked about this before.” He freed his hand and ran it over her hip in a nondemanding way before settling on her belly. The small gesture was familiar and slightly possessive, which nowadays she relished. 

“Like when? During that last year in Sunnydale between you being temporarily insane and controlled by the First and me still recovering from depression and trying to lead an army of Potential Slayers?”

“We did the best we could.” He sounded surprised by this conclusion.

“We were both still healing.” She’d been thinking about this for over a year. “And I thought somehow me showing you would mean more than telling, but I guess we both needed words.”

“Maybe both.”

“Both would have been good,” she agreed.

“I didn’t want to overstep after what happened. . . before I left for Africa.” He still couldn’t talk about what happened in her bathroom. “And you were obviously still struggling with it. As only makes sense.”

“Maybe we did the best we could?” she repeated, solidifying his deduction.

“Sounds like, love.” He held her tighter and pushed his face into her hair.

Buffy shivered with desire and felt comforted at the same time, but sleep still beckoned her from the edge of her conscious mind. Something asserted itself, shoving aside the lure of dreams. She could tell Spike was almost gone to sleep, too, but she still whispered, “Me being afraid of you not being there anymore has more to do with what happened with people before you.” If she let herself dwell, she still felt the sharp pain of losing Angel multiple times and Riley’s betrayal. The other two weren’t worth mentioning even in her own mind. “Dying to save the world has a whole other connotation.”

“Mmm?” Spike shifted. Buffy almost thought he didn’t hear her until he said, “Not going anywhere. Not now. Unless you tell me to. And I get the insecurity. Have it too for similar reasons with others.”

She didn’t feel like rehashing their exes, but she was curious at his hint at someone else besides Drusilla. “I know. Give me some time?”

“As much as you need, love. From the sound of it, I might need some, too.”

“I love you.” She couldn’t say it enough now.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out with what sounded like happiness. “Still can’t believe you love me.”

“I’ll keep saying it until you do.”

* * *

Somewhere just past Houston the next night, they stopped at a Waffle House. Buffy had been seeing the signs at random rest stops, and with each one they passed, her stomach became a little more adamant. She’d had a burger from Whataburger when they got back on the road that evening, but now, it was lunchtime. (Was it really called lunch if it was the middle of the night and they were having breakfast-type food?) 

Spike held her hand on the way to the restaurant, his swagger softened with her. When he opened the door for her, he stooped to nuzzle her ear and emit a little growl, which made her giggle. The sweet smells of waffles mingled with fresh coffee and frying bacon beckoned her inside. 

Buffy dragged him to a little table in the corner near the window away from the other late night patrons. Sliding into the booth, she tugged Spike down next to her, making sure her body was pressed against his. 

When the waitress deposited the menus and went to fill their order for coffees, Spike teasingly pinched her butt and then moved around to sit across from her.

She made a pouty face at him. 

He smirked as he picked up his menu, keeping his blue eyes on hers. “If I sit next to you, love, no telling what might happen. And I thought you wanted to eat.”

“I can do both,” she insisted. 

He pushed his boots against hers so that their feet were crisscrossed together. “Actually, I thought we could talk.”

“Talk?” Since when did Spike want to talk with her? Oh, wait. He always wanted to talk with her. She had just weighted their interactions the other way in the past because it was easier. Straightening her shoulders, she said, “Okay.” She really wanted to hear him, and she was determined to show him she could. She wanted both with him; she wanted something healthier that could last. 

The waitress returned with their coffees, and Buffy ordered them both pecan waffles and bacon to make sure the waitress left them be for a while. 

Buffy leaned forward across the table and took Spike’s hand, his fingers dancing with hers until they settled on a comfortable position. “What would you like to talk about? I’m all with the ears.”

Spike tilted his head to one side, but his gaze went down. “I want you to know who I am.” Buffy forced herself to wait; it was hard for her to not interject as was their way with one another. “And I haven’t always been honest with you.”

“Shocker.” He made a face at her. “Sorry. Done with the sarcasm.” She zipped her mouth shut with her free fingers.

“I was afraid you’d judge me.” He looked up at her, his chin still down. This only served to confirm how serious he was. 

“You mean more than I already have?” She could own that. They’d both been incredibly harsh, if not outright abusive, with one another. But that last year in Sunnydale? She thought it had meant something – the tenderness between them. Though it had been six months since she’d found him again, she didn’t think they were close to figuring out their balance.

“In a different way. Before it was – Slayer-vampire banter. It was expected. Now, it’s different.” Now that she’d confirmed and shown that she still loved him. Now that they were both really trying for something different between them.

She rubbed his fingers with hers in a reassuring gesture. “Got it. I’m here. Not judging.”

“Okay.” He fidgeted with the paper wrapped utensils. He was more than a little nervous.

Buffy decided to help by being distracting. Snagging the glass bottle of sugar, she dumped more than she intended into her coffee and then let his hand go to doctor it up further with half-and-half. 

As she worked, Spike said, “I wasn’t honest about who I was before I was turned.” Buffy waited. “I-I wasn’t like. . . I was a bit of a. . . let’s just say I came from an affluent family, but I didn’t fit into society at the time. My mum was a bit of a rebel when it came to society’s rules and etiquette. She had the softest heart and always wanted to help those less fortunate even if it meant being a bit shunned by her peers. She did hold it in check when my father was alive. She loved him, and he loved her. My father was a good man. A good father.”

Buffy tried not to show any sign of surprise though that was not at all what she expected him to say. It was quite a contrast to his I’ve-always-been-bad speech when he talked about his past. Somehow, she managed to say, “Sounds like I would have liked your mom.”

Spike grinned. “You would have. She was an amazing lady.” He got quiet – his eyes somewhat distant as Buffy took a sip of overly sweet coffee. She set the cup down to refocus on him. “In any case, I was well-educated and came from a very loving family, but in keeping with what my mother taught me, I didn’t fit in with my own peers. I-I fell in love though. . . well, what I thought was love at the time.”

“It takes a while to figure the concept out. And what kind you want and need. I know from experience,” Buffy said in a half-teasing, half-serious manner. Then, she asked, “What was her name?”

“Her name was Cecily. She was beautiful and came from a family with the right titles and position. But I was an idiot. She never would have gone for a bloke like me.” 

Buffy took Spike’s hand again. She saw his willingness to do anything for the people he cared about (yes, even Dru) and loved him for it. “She’s the idiot.”

Spike gave her a small smile and peered at her with those bluest of eyes, and it was everything she could do to stop herself from launching over the table to sit astride his lap. He could totally tell, too. Still, he didn’t pounce on it and kept talking. “Well, it didn’t end well with her. I went to this party where everyone who was anyone at the time was going to be, and I was wracking my brain and hoping to win her over with a bit of a poem. I was bloody awful at writing poetry.”

“I bet that’s not true.” He wrote her poetry with his actions; she couldn’t imagine he couldn’t express himself with words. And she would never forget what he said to her that night in Sunnydale when she had been kicked out of her own house. That was poetry. 

He lifted an eyebrow at her. “I’ll have to share some with you sometime. It’s pretty dreadful drivel.”

“I’d love it.” And she would; she knew it. She wanted to ask him to write her some, but she considered that might be pushing it. “What happened next? At the party. With Cecily.”

“As usual, I was making all kinds of social faux pas but not really caring until they started saying rude things, and then, Cecily? I shared my poem with her, and – ”

The waitress interrupted their conversation. Annoyingly. “Here you go.” She plunked down the waffles and bacon as well as some bottles of different flavored syrups, but despite the late hour, she read the situation like a book and left without asking further questions. Buffy was grateful.

She poured syrup over her waffle, and Spike did, too. Syrup pouring synchrony. 

Buffy unwrapped her utensils and cut into the waffle. “So, you read her the poem?”

“I did. It went horribly as you might expect, and,” Spike hesitated here but then casually said, “she told me that I was beneath her.” 

Buffy’s stomach dropped, and she set down her fork and swallowed, looking at him with sadness. “Oh.”

“I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, pet. There’s a reason if you’ll hear me out.” Spike stood and rejoined her on her side of the booth, pulling her close and squeezing her thigh. He even dragged over his food and coffee. “Promise.”

She frowned uncertainly but trusted him enough. She took a bite of waffle to show him she was ready. 

Spike was silent for several seconds. “That was the night I was turned by Dru. I was humiliated and devastated – at the time. I left the party with a broken heart, and that’s when I ran into Dru. Or rather, she sought me out, I think. She had that sixth sense about her. Always did.”

“She saw something in you,” Buffy decided. “Smart of her.”

He rubbed her thigh. “You saw something in me.”

“It took me a while.” She poked her waffle with her fork.

“And that’s the point I was getting round to.”

“That I took forever to see the good in you?” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

“No, well, yeah, but not forever to a vampire. And you had good reason not to.” 

“True.” She made a confused face. “What were we talking about? What point were you making?”

“Ah, that. Been thinking about this a while now.”

Buffy took a sip of coffee, which was already too cold for her liking. She ignored it. Then, she turned sideways so that her leg was on the bench – her shin pressed against his leg. “Tell me.”

Spike smiled at her with fondness and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Both those moments. . . when you and Cecily essentially said the same thing to me. They both sent me on a tailspin of emotion that I acted on. I was angry and hurt. But each outcome was very different.”

“How so?” 

“With Cecily, I accepted the darkness because Dru saw something inside me that was. . . what she needed. And I thought she saw me. I truly did. And I do think she did in her own way.” 

“She is very,” Buffy pressed her lips together, searching for a less provoking word than “insane” and settling on, “unique.” 

“That’s an extremely nice way of saying it, pet.” 

“I’m trying,” she said innocently.

“And with you – ” 

Something dawned on Buffy. “You came to find me with a gun. You were going to kill me, weren’t you?”

“I couldn’t have,” he insisted, kissing her forehead. “You were in tears. Over something. And something inside me. . . shifted. It was small, but it did.”

“I remember you sitting with me. I was upset about my mom.” She’d been too confused by her own emotions at the time to really understand what it meant that Spike just spent time with her, not saying anything and patting her shoulder. “You let me have my feelings and were just there with me. No one else did that for me. And you don’t know how much I needed that.” 

“That was the moment, pet.” Spike studied her with such intense love in his eyes that her heart skipped a beat. “That was the moment that everything changed for me. For the good. I don’t think I really understood it then either. You turned my world upside down. You brought me back to who I used to be – at least part of the way. I was a good man.”

Buffy felt tears well up, her vision blurring. “You are a good man. And I love you. And I’m. . . not sorry that I said that to you.” She paused. “Well, I’m sorry that I hurt you, but I’m glad for how it impacted you in the long run.”

Spike picked up a piece of bacon and held it out to her. “No need for apologies, love. It can’t be changed; it just is. And I wanted you to know.”

“Thank you.” She blinked away the evidence of her emotions, smiled, and took a bite of the offered food. 

* * *

Buffy happily hummed along with Mariah Carey’s, “All I Want for Christmas.” She had managed to finagle control of the radio again and also managed to find another Christmas station in Louisiana. It was her way of stopping herself from dwelling on the fact that Spike was driving almost ninety miles an hour. His excuse was that he was staying with the traffic and making up for time lost on her breaks. 

Spike rolled his eyes when she danced in her seat at the end of the song and faux belted out the lyrics. She wasn’t quite ready to sing of her own volition in front of him. She wasn’t sure why, but she thought the whole debacle with Sweet had something to do with it. 

When the song was over, she graciously held both palms up at the radio controls. “All yours.” 

“Finally,” he grumbled and began pushing the search button. After several seconds and some disgruntled jamming of said button, he flicked off the radio. 

“Sorry you couldn’t find anything you like.” She took a swig of water. “Maybe we should talk about what we’re doing when we get to New Orleans?”

“That and it’s your turn.”

Buffy brightened considerably. “My turn? You’re going to let me drive?”

Spike scoffed. “Bloody hell, no, pet.”

“Ha ha.” So, she was being a tad sarcastic. “You don’t have to sound so unbend-y about it.”

“I do. I really do. Because no driving for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve gotten better. You just don’t know it because we’ve been stuck in L.A. for months, and there’s been nowhere to drive.” It was true. The roads in L.A. were a mess because the battle had caused massive citywide destruction. Driving only seemed to work on the outskirts near where people were living. “Also, you did raise the issue of trust earlier on our trip. You’re gonna have to trust me behind the wheel at some point.”

“Show me when we’re not on the highway in the middle of nowhere. Don’t need you driving us off into a bloody swamp,” Spike growled, gesturing out the window. 

Buffy crossed her arms. “As if. I’ve never been that bad.”

“Says you.”

“Distracting,” Buffy countered. 

Spike lifted an eyebrow. At least, Buffy imagine it was just one eyebrow; she couldn’t see the other side of his face. “You started the distracting, pet. Not me.”

Buffy smiled. “Are we having our first road trip fight?” 

“What do you mean? Is that even a thing?” Spike’s eyebrow went higher if that was even possible.

“Maybe?” She shrugged. “I may have just made it up. But you know what they say about a couple who road trips well together. . . ”

“What’s that?”

“I have no idea. But I think it’s good,” she said with purposeful perkiness.

He smirked at her and then sobered. “Speaking of trust. Your turn, missy. I spilled about Cecily. Tell me something about you.” 

Buffy wanted to be an open book, but being an open book was hard because old habits and all. Still, she was willing to try. “About what?”

“I dunno. How about telling me about what you said to Angel.” He was trying to sound nonchalant, but the tinge of jealousy was there. 

She supposed it might always be there with regard to Angel; she couldn’t blame Spike – she felt the same about Dru and maybe even this Cecily woman even though she was probably long dead. “When? I’ve had a lot of conversations with Angel over the years.”

“How about when you went gallivanting off to rescue those people who were being held hostage by that family of porcupine demons? Or were they hedgehog demons?”

“Oh. That time. They were porcupines. Definitely porcupines. Hedgehogs are cute and cuddly, and these guys were definitely not cuddly.” Buffy had ended up getting stuck with Angel for a whole day after the demons were defeated because there was no way past the relenting sun. So, after slaying the demons and rescuing the prisoners, who ended up being very ungrateful, Buffy had been trapped with Angel in the half-collapsed building together. 

“Yeah. You were with the ole poof for a long time.” Spike passed a car, probably going too slow for his liking. Buffy waited to reply until he was around, but to her surprise, he added, “I have a lot of reasons to not trust him around you. Not because of you but because of him.”

Buffy picked at one of her fingernails which had broken and was a little crooked. “I think you have reason to not trust me around him.” She could own that. She needed to own that. She reached over and picked up his free hand. “It was nice to talk with him. But rest assured, he was clear by the end of it that I’m with you. I don’t think he really got it before.”

“I don’t know if he’ll ever get it. You’re all star-crossed and whatever else eternal. Him with his soul curse.”

“Angel and I are not star-crossed. And you’re not my second choice, you know.”

“Thought I was.”

She pushed her fingers between his. “You’re my first choice. I thought you got it when I kissed you in front of the whole of everyone in that first-aid-hospital tent.”

Spike closed his eyes briefly but reopened them just as Buffy thought she should poke him because he shouldn’t be closing his eyes while driving. “That’s true. But for reasons not necessarily about you, I’d like to know about how you feel about him.” 

She didn’t mind reassuring him. “Angel will always be my first big love. But it doesn’t mean I think he’s right for me. And I’ll always be grateful for the good parts about being with him. The bad parts where he lost his soul and tortured and killed people I cared about? I can’t forget those. Teenage me thought I could. But now that I’m older.” She shook her head, her chest aching with regret that she didn’t realize could still be so fresh. “I really can’t forgive those things. I can’t forgive myself either.”

He regarded her with a small smile, compassion bright in his eyes even in the darkness. “You didn’t cause him to get cursed with a soul that has a happiness clause. Angelus did all that on his own.” 

“People would still be alive if I had been able to stake him.” People would still be alive if she’d done a lot of things differently. Seemed like she was always failing. 

“People would still be alive if you had staked me, too. Though I’ve gone back and forth on the matter, I’m bloody well glad you didn’t.” He clasped her hand. “Point is, you can’t prevent everything. No one can. Not even the Slayer.”

“Even though it’s in my job description?”

“A job description written by a bunch of sodding cowardly men in the dark ages? Fuck that.” His voice was deep and soft. 

She laughed. “All right. I got your point. . . . Thank you.”

“You saved a lot of bloody people in your time so far, love. Including me.” 

Buffy held up their hands and kissed the back of his. “I’m pretty sure you saved me a time or two, too. Even all the days the summer after I. . .” Her eyes brimmed with tears, one escaping over the edge. She sniffed and wiped it away. “I know that me kissing Angel threw you off before. And even though I didn’t know what you and I were at the time, it wasn’t fair to you. And I can guarantee you that I haven’t kissed him since, I have no plans of kissing him at any point in the future, and the only person I even thought about after you were gone was you. You don’t know how many times I imagined how I could have saved you, too. I love you.” 

Spike stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. “Okay.” His voice was heavy with emotion as if maybe he finally believed her. He squeezed her hand again. “Thank you. You realize that I’m really not going anywhere now.”

“I’m counting on it.” She sounded more confident than she felt.

He, of course, somehow knew because he knew her, and he gave her that look that told her he’d make her believe him. “I mean it.” He softened. “Unless you need me to go.” 

“Or you need me to.” She’d never felt so safe with him. 

* * * 

With her face a mask of concentration, Buffy rummaged around in her suitcase, hunting for her gift for Spike. She should have put it somewhere easier to retrieve. Damn it. 

She’d tried pulling the present out while the luggage was in the car, but that was a dismal failure. So, she’d dragged the bag onto the sidewalk at the Chevron station while Spike was in the shop, buying another snack for her. She’d talked him into stopping before they passed through Baton Rouge, hoping for her plans to go smoothly and without demonic interruption if they were in a more populated area. 

But this Louisiana humidity in December? For the birds. She was sweating in the winter. Though she supposed the extra moisture in the air was good for her skin. 

Her fingers snagged the small package underneath her favorite sweater (her only sweater) where she’d forgotten she’d put it. Finally. With a happy sigh, she stood up and leaned against the car. Thankfully, the package was still intact.

“What’s this?” Annoyance tinged Spike’s voice. “Do you know how hard it was to put your bloody bag in the car?” 

Ignoring his irritation, Buffy shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll put it back.” She thrust the brightly-wrapped package at him. “Merry Christmas!”

“Christmas is tomorrow.” Spike slung the plastic bag with his purchases into the front seat and accepted the gift. Despite the bit of protest in his words, his expression was one of absolute awe, and Buffy wondered how long it had been since he’d been given a present. 

His lips were soft and cool on hers as he gave her a brief kiss, and then, he drew back and studied the gift with a smile of such genuine joy that she wished she could pause the moment and roll around in it. “Thank you.”

She danced anxiously from one foot to the other. “Open it?”

Spike’s fingers trembled a bit as he reverently loosened the tape to not tear the paper. Tucking the wrappings under the gift, he touched the small silver-framed picture with the cheesy image of a bright red heart and blooming pink flowers winding around the borders. He read the message printed underneath, “Home is where the heart is?” He held up the other item, plastic green leaves and white berries reflecting the light from the gas station. “And mistletoe?”

Her cheeks grew hot as she hurried to explain. “The mistletoe because it’s Christmas, and we’re not anywhere where I can decorate. I thought we could hang it from the rearview mirror? Plus, I like kissing you. A lot.”

“I think I got that memo,” he teased. “And the picture?”

Buffy kept her eyes trained on his hands holding the gift. “Was Mom’s. She used to keep it on her bedside table wherever we lived. When I was growing up, she would say that home was wherever we were, no matter what roof was over our heads. When she died, I kept it in my room, mostly tucked in a drawer because it hurt to look at it, and it was one of the only things I packed in Sunnydale prior to well. . . everything.” She couldn’t summarize it in a neat set of words. “And now, I wanted you to know that wherever you are? That’s home to me.” She peeked up at him almost shyly, uncertain of his reaction. 

To her surprise, tears were shining in his eyes, and her own tears soon matched his as she moved into his arms. He clung to her, holding her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. “I love you, pet. Happy Christmas.”

* * *

At the first empty rest stop Buffy and Spike across outside of Baton Rouge, they’d parked and made love in the car this time. He’d pushed his seat all the way back, the air conditioning cradling them in a cool breeze, and she’d eagerly climbed atop to ride him, starting with slow, tender intensity and building speed until the car was moving with them and they were both satisfied. 

As Buffy tugged her shirt over her head back in the passenger seat, Spike slid the car back onto the highway. 

“We should really talk about what we’re doing in the Big Easy,” he said, adjusting the steering wheel. 

“Didn’t I say that already?” She leaned over and kissed his upper arm. “And do huh? Big Easy?”

“New Orleans. Lady that wrote for the paper in the ‘70s? She did a comparison between New York City and New Orleans. Said the latter is the laid-back little sister of her big sis up north. Nickname stuck.”

“Oh.” 

He smiled over at her. “Yeah. Well. We’re less than an hour out now. What do we know?” 

“We’re meeting the New Orleans Slayer and her new Watcher. I think her name is Emily. Giles wants us to assess the situation and help out.” The phone connection with Giles had been spotty with L.A. being what it was, but there’d been that tiny area in Spike’s apartment closet where the signal had been more than decent. The irony was not lost on her. 

Spike’s eyebrows went together. “That’s pretty vague, pet. Why us?”

“Well, technically me. He just knows you’re part of the me package now.” Buffy pulled some chips out of the stash of snacks. More spicy Cheetos. And those were Spike’s. She opened them and set the bag on Spike’s leg.

“He does, does he?” Spike sounded almost as pleased by this news as he had been about her choosing him over Angel in public. 

“He does.” 

“Good.” Spike picked up the bag of chips and settled them between his legs. “Thanks, pet.” Buffy was pretty sure he was thanking her for opening the chips and maybe telling him about the package deal thing, too.

She happily found the bag of sour cream and onion Ruffles. “Anyway, a new Hellmouth-y thing opened up in New Orleans. It’s not a full-fledged Hellmouth like in Sunnydale and Cleveland but sort of a mini one. Giles thinks that some of this new activity is tied to the shifts in power with me coming back, the First, all the potential Slayers becoming Slayers, and all the stuff in L.A.”

“Makes sense, love. Magic has consequences, and if you use it, all you can do is hope that you can deal with the aftermath.” He reached over and rubbed her thigh. “And before you go all beating yourself up in that noggin of yours again, remember that you did the best you could with what you had in Sunnydale.”

She gave him a close-lipped smile. “Right. Can’t do anything about it now except do my best to help with the consequences.” So, she didn’t sound too convincing, but she’d get there. Someday.

“Right.” He’d helped her through her consequences more than he’d ever know. 

“So, there is a super weird thing about this mini-Hellmouth.” Buffy twisted the cap on her soda, and the carbonation hissed.

“What’s that?” Without using his blinker, Spike angled around an 18-wheeler – whose driver was no doubt going less than ninety miles an hour.

“It’s slippery.”

“A slippery Hellmouth? Never heard of such a phenomenon.” 

“Not sure why, but it moves around from place to place in New Orleans and sometimes a little outside of the city. Not like daily but randomly and frequently enough to be a prediction problem.” Buffy popped a chip in her mouth. 

“Makes sense why they’d need help. Baby Slayer and Watcher in over their heads.” Spike held out his hand.

Buffy passed him the soda and swallowed her food. “Right. And there’s some sort of big gathering of demons happening in the next couple of weeks. Exact date unknown. Exact location of Hellmouth for the gathering unknown. But the Slayer’s heard rumblings of all of it from the local demon folk whom she considers allies. So, reinforcements needed. Some other local Slayers are coming in town to help, too. But no one with a ton of experience.”

Spike took a drink and handed her the bottle. “Sounds right up our alley, pet.” He grinned at her.

A wide smile graced her lips. “It totally does.”

The end.  
11-27-18  
12:56 PM

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place before “A Small Boat on the Ocean” and “Adventures in Vamp-Sitting,” but it is a standalone fic and can be read as such with no knowledge needed about the later stories. 
> 
> Spike is right about the Big Easy nickname. And there also used to be a dance hall in the early 1900s called “The Big Easy,” but that’s not exactly where the city’s nickname came from. 
> 
> In this fic, Buffy and Spike take I-10 from L.A. to New Orleans. It takes approximately 27 hours without breaks. And I just assumed that Spike made up some time by speeding. Ha. (Side note: I used to drive from NOLA to my hometown in Texas five hours away. It’s such a long stretch of highway…lots of trees and pretty much nothing else. I used to go with the cars, too. Sometimes, I may or may not have saved myself an hour by doing that… *whistles innocently*)
> 
> Also, I totally relate to the not wanting to leave belongings behind due to Katrina and Rita right in a row and going through a couple of robberies of my apartment a few years later. So I figured Buffy might feel a little like that having lost everything in Sunnydale, including Spike. 
> 
> There are a bunch of small little Easter eggs in here for some of my fandom peeps/other fics and a teeny tiny reference to Kendra. I also researched locations, including whether there were Whataburgers in Arizona or New Mexico and where the Chevron stations are in Baton Rouge (no idea if they were there in 2004), and of course, I know where Waffle Houses are on I-10 in the Texas/Louisiana area.


End file.
